


Go Away

by Lxie



Series: Please Don't Go [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, Science-y, angsty, friend intervention, prairie voles, there's a coffee shop but not a coffee shop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 13:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11647704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lxie/pseuds/Lxie
Summary: Pidge said that love was all chemical.Four main components: serotonin, dopamine and norepinephrine, adrenaline, and that absolute fucker called oxytocin.





	Go Away

**Author's Note:**

> There's research done with prairie voles that when injected with oxytocin they find a mate soon after.  
> No I am not writing Keith's epic soul journey  
> I used a bunch of resources for the science stuff and it's on the post on my tumblr but I'm too lazy to transfer that here. Just google science of love and asap science, life noggin', and V-sauce etc. should show up in videos which is the majority of what I used.

Pidge said that love was all chemical.

Four main components: serotonin, dopamine and norepinephrine, adrenaline, and that absolute fucker called oxytocin.

Low levels of serotonin made the brain makeup remarkably similar to a person who has OCD, obsessing over the person you believe yourself in love with. _What’s Keith doing? Is he safe? Is he happy? I miss his stupid eyes and his stupid hair and his stupid face. Is that person over there that looks nothing like him, him? No of course not because you’re fucking obsessed Lance._

An increase in adrenaline making for that faux feeling of butterflies in your stomach, anxious, jumpy, that dizzying but addicting feeling of being around that person. Honestly, it would be very scary, it’s reducing the blood flow to your stomach and bringing it to the muscles in case you need to take a punch or throw one. Maybe that’s why he felt to need to punch his stupid ass face.

Of fucking course a real kicker, an increase of dopamine and norepinephrine. Being with that person, seeing that person, seeing that person’s _picture_ is a _reward_. A biological reward to keep coming back to them like crack. It’s a need to see them, elation, a _drug,_ all happening in the mesolimbic dopamine system. Which is the best way to describe him right now, a druggie going through withdrawal who can’t get their next hit. From getting that high from seeing him every damn day, within arms reach, close enough to see, smell, and touch. Encouraging that _damn reward system._ All that lovey, feel-good _shit_ gone, just like that. _Nothing_. Cold turkey. Withdrawal. He fell and now he’s _crashing to the **ground**._

It all should wear off. He was told it always feels longer than it is. It might not be the end of the world but every time Lance thinks he sees him, or sees a knife, or the color red, it feels like the end of _his_ world again and again.

It’s all chemical.

It will wear off soon. Biologically it has to. It’s easy, a venting of feelings and spending time with other people to forget about a certain someone is easy. For a few hours. The standing time of forgetting about _him_ is getting longer, so there’s hope. Soon he’ll forget about him for an entire day hopefully.

But that _fucker_ oxytocin.

The cuddle hormone. The commitment neuromodulator. The _love_ hormone. The hormone that’s fucking him over. Because it’s been six months and he somehow was still hung up on the guy like some stupid prarie vole hocked up on oxytocin.

It’s all because of his fucked up brain chemicals made too much oxytocin.

He had fantasized on what he would do when Keith came back, _if_ he came back. At first it was petty and saying _hell no_ before slamming the door in his mullet-ed face. Then even his daydreams got desperate thinking he was going to come back and Lance would forgive him and they’d finally be together instead of…. whatever they were before. But those are exactly what they are, daydreams, fantasies, fiction.

Now his fantasies are cool and collected but still end with a stern _hell no_ before a door slam to the face. He decided to embrace the petty. That’s what he is, why deny it.

Despite what he imagined he’d do if Keith ever came crawling back to his life, he never actually expected it. Which is why, when he answered the door he expected Hunk or Pidge, maybe even Shiro, Allura, or Coran. Never did he ever think that it would be Keith Kogane staring at him through too long bangs.

His heart stuttered to a stop and he’s ninety percent sure when he opened the door Keith punched him in the solar plexus because he didn’t have _air._ And his chest _hurt._ Just from seeing him in his damn doorway six months of work just flew out the damn window.

He did what he always fantasized.

He slammed the door in his goddamned face.

 -

He was at the door again.

The guy just wont quit. He’s trying to get _over_ him, he can’t move on if he won’t _go away._

He flung the door open, game face on in the presence of an opponent. “What do you want, Keith.”

His opponent flinched back slightly before determination furrowed his brow. “I just need to talk to you, Lance.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“You don’t have to! Just lis—“

“Eh!” He made a buzzer noise. “Wrong, I do have something to say.” He advanced on him, invading Keith’s personal bubble. “I said I wouldn’t be here if you left, Keith. Did you think I would wait for you like some goddamned puppy? No! I _got over you._ ” He stepped back and started to close the door. “Just, go away, Keith.”

The click of the door gave him a sense of satisfaction.

 -

Lance shook out his umbrella as the bell chimed. Setting it in the corner to dry he started to unzip his hoodie as he walked up to the counter. He smiled at the barista. “Hi, Sarah, could I get small campfire mocha, hot, please?”

The brunette smiled at him and typed his order into the register. “Dark chocolate like always?”

He snapped his fingers and shot her a couple of fingerguns. “You know me so well, doll.”

She rolled her eyes at him with a soft smile. “Okay, three seventy-five.”

He handed her a five and when she handed him the change he dropped it into the tip jar. He moved to the side when a hand wrapped around his wrist. He sighed.

Keith.

It’s always Keith.

Over the past weeks he just kept showing up at his door to talk. Even if he kept shutting the door in his face, he left after his face met wood but now that he was around it made Lance even more aware of him. He always saw Keith popping up out of the oddest places. The grocery store, the park, and now his coffee shop. Each sighting a little prick to his heart, making him bleed out in little drops. Lance stayed strong but his pettiness has been worn away at like water on the shore, weathering the sharp points and leaving dulled tiredness.

“What do you want, Keith?”

“I want to talk to you, Lance.”

He shook off his grip easily and dragged his hands down his face. “Before my coffee? I just wanted my coffee, Keith, just my coffee. Now you’re here. God, why.”

“Because I fucked up.” His face twisted into something akin to desperation. He looked down and licked his lips. “Please, Lance. I want to apologize.”

Lance held up a hand. “No, no, you see? Apologizing will only make you feel better. It won’t fix anything, or go back in time, or magically make me forgive you; it does shit. They’re just words. Now, go away, Keith.”

He went up to the counter where Sarah discreetly left his drink and left. Forgoing the umbrella as the door clanged shut.

 -

Lance sighed as he trudged through the door. Dropping his bag on the couch to grab a bowl of soup Hunk left the last time he was there before vegging in front of the TV for a few hours. Juuust after a few episodes of Stranger Things he’ll work on his paperwork for his class. Who else would be better to teach those kids at the Garrison about alien diplomacy?

There was knocking on the door after the first few bites. Lance groaned. He set his soup down and flopped down on his side. Taking a pillow he tried to smother it over his head. It muffled the knocking but then Keith had to call out in the voice Lance only thought about since the guy left him in the dust.

“Lance, please! I know you’re in there! I can hear the TV! I just…I just want to explain.”

Lance just buried himself further into the couch, pillow obscuring his vision. Hearing his voice and knowing he’s _actually_ there behind that door, it’s like someone is digging into a fresh bruise. Sore, painful, but the pain is strangely addicting. To just keep kneading at that bruise until that little pain was a constant throbbing, put the pain was worth the accelerated healing.

It became quiet. Lance could imagine him with his big violet eyes sad and limpid, hand against the door that won’t open. “Lance?” he breathed. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. I was really messed up, still am a bit, and I thought leaving and cutting myself from everyone until I figured it out was best. I was wrong. I mean, I was kinda right, I got help but I should’ve done it _with_ you. I know you don’t want to talk to me and I’ll take a hint. I won’t come back and force you to do something you don’t want to. I’m sorry, Lance.”

Against his better judgment Lance jumped out from behind his pillow shield and ran to the door, jerking it open, but no one was there.

 -

A couple of weeks later and that oxytocin was still going strong, except ten times worse. _Everything_ reminded him of Keith. Because, while he didn’t come by the apartment he was still _there_. Down the road, across the store, tantalizing close but so far out of his reach. The worst part was that he _could have_ had Keith. It was his fault this time. The worst thing was that Keith was gone for good this time. Lance held out hope that Keith would come back, had fantasies on how he would slam that door in his face. There are no fantasies this time. Keith’s gone for good because he believed that Lance doesn’t want him to come back.

_God_ are ex’s supposed to hurt this much?

Ha.

He’s the butt of that particular joke because Keith wasn’t even an _ex._ Everything was sluggish and grey. No dopamine or norepinephrine here. It was harder to concentrate, thanks to that serotonin, but everything just blurred in his vision anyway.

There was a soft knock on the door.

Lance sat up quicker than how Keith would threaten to cut him every time he left the toothpaste uncapped.

_Keith?_

Wrapping his blanket around his shoulders he scrambled to the door but pausing before opening. _Don’t act desperate. Don’t act like you need him. Don’t act like you’re gettin’ next hit._

_Druggie,_ his mind whispered.

He cleared his throat to open up to…nothing.

A throat cleared.

He directed his gaze down to see Pidge. First layer of hair and shoulders wet from the recent weather, smiling a half smile at him.

“’Bout time you opened up.” She shook her head so raindrops darkened the blanket draping his shoulders in splatters. “Are you just going to stare at me?”

Lance shook himself. “Yeah, sorry, Pidge.”

As she walked through the door he dropped his blanket on top of her head, before the liquid could soak through the rest of her hair. She scrubbed the blanket into her hair, turning into a dandelion mess.

“You weren’t at school again.”

“Yeah, well, I got Coran to sub for me.”

“You’re children are scarred for life now, Lance.”

“Nothing like good ol’ emotional scarring to improve character right?”

A deadpan look was his only response.

He scrubbed his hands over his face, feeling the slight bumps of acne from stress. “I’m sorry, Pidge, okay? I’ll show up to class, I just need a break for a while.”

She backed up until she met the couch and sad down, blanket in a damp heap next to her. “Is this about Keith?”

Lance stubbed his toe on the coffee table. “Fuck! Ow ow ow ow,” he rubbed his toe, “why would you think that?”

She kicked off her shoes before crossing her legs in that childlike way of hers on the couch. “Because he’s staying in town and went to everyone to apologize for going on a life journey to find himself?”

“But that doesn’t mean I would be effected by his stupid life-altering journey,” he said shaking out his foot.

“Well, you’re in love with him and lived with him so that has to count for something.”

“I don’t love him anymore Pidge. You’re the one that said that love was just a chemical reaction in the brain. It’s been a little over a year now, my brain chemistry is fine now.”

“Not from where I’m sitting, Lance. You’re still in love with him and you’re stupid pride is preventing you from forgiving him and making up.” She crossed her arms and shot him a look over her glasses.

His hand flew up. “It doesn’t even matter, Pidge! He’s gone, okay? I ruined it and he’s… he’s…” his hands fell to his lap, “he gave up. I made him give up.”

He could feel Pidge’s stare on him. Feel it boring into the side of his skull as she sat like a kindergartener. “What?”

“You…you honestly think that Keith gave up on you?” Her voice was incredulous and she was looking at him like he lost more marbles than usual. She got up on her knees and started thwaping him with the damp blanket. “You—“ _Thwap!_ — “dumbass!” She dropped the blanket and collapsed like cut marionette into the cushions, mumbling that he was so stupid over and over. Finally she took a breath and said very slowly, with enunciation. “Has it occurred to you that he’s giving you _space?!_ That he’s respecting your decision? That he still holds out the hope that you’ll seek him out? The ball is in your corner. He gave you the ball. _He gave you his balls!_ ”

Lance was speechless; it just kept rolling through his mind. _He gave you his balls. He gave you his balls._

_“He gave me his balls!”_

_“He gave you his balls!”_

_“Holy shit!”_

_“Aaaaahhhh!”_

_“Aaaaaaahhhhhhh!”_

_-_

After that epiphany it was a couple of days for him to sort out everything, what his feelings were, what he would say, what he wanted, what _Keith_ wanted. Here he is, speeches cluttering his brain, with varied responses for whatever he might say. He had everything planned out from inviting him to dinner to talk and from the conversation that followed, after was more ambiguous. He had no idea what would come out of it.

All of those plans went out the window when he saw Keith in the window of the coffee shop on one rainy afternoon. Before he knew what was happening his feet were on the move and the bell chimed as he opened the door, drawing Keith’s attention.

His eyes widened when he recognized the person who opened the door, wet from the rain. He bit his lip and looked away and back, uncharacteristically indecisive, before settling on a small smile and turning back to wait for his drink. Like…accidentally seeing a coworker outside of work. Knowing them but not friends, and that knowledge settled like a rock in his stomach knowing that he’s a participant in that.

He took a breath and walked over, soft footsteps, until he was right next to him. Keith looked at him with those big eyes, alarmed but hopeful. “Keith, I—I’m ready to talk now.”

He nodded and breathed out a soft, “okay.”

Lance ordered and Keith waited for him at a table by the big window. The blue-green letters arcing above him. Watching the pitter-patter of the rain making patterns on the window. He sat down across from him, hands on his coffee, elbows off the table, like he’s at an interview.

“Kei—“

“I didn’t think you’d ever want to see me again.”

“Ah, to be honest, I didn’t think so either.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Keith, I was being petty and hurtful. I should’ve heard you out.”

Quietly, barely a breath, Keith said, “I shouldn’t’ve left in the first place.”

“I’m sorry,” they both blurted simultaneously. That brought a light chuckle from the both of them, leavening the atmosphere.

“Why don’t,” Lance started, “why don’t you go first.”

Keith nodded.

For the next several hours until the rain slowed to a drizzle and the grey clouds overhead darkened with the setting sun they talked about what the other missed, they confessed their fears and feelings, told jokes or reminisced on funny stories to lighten the mood again. In that coffee shop, in the rain, they slowly got to know each other again, going back to where they left off but with a new beginning. Still having an entire story ahead of them but hopefully with a new ending.

Lance traced the rim of his cup with a finger. “So, uh, are you staying?”

Keith looked him dead in the eye and said, “I’m not going away again, Lance, not unless you want me to.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Good, because I don’t want you to. Go away, that is.”

Keith chuckled, shaking his head. “I understand.”

When the door chimed but neither looked away from the other.


End file.
